M O I R A
she looks into her mirror,
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
He is distant at first, lost in his own world as they pass through the gates to get their crowns, but she does not mind. She looks to the wildflowers on his head and smiles, wishing she could take one to press into the pages of a book with so many flowers that Moira could not possibly name them all. There are separate books - one for memories like tonight, another for healing and the uses of the plants, and another just to capture the beauty of the world. In her sketchbook that Estelle holds, she often would put in small scraps of those days, those precious moments. A lock of hair, a fallen petal, a thread from the tapestries on the wall.
If she could, she would press her crown into the pages for eternity to remember it as fondly as she does. Glancing to Asterion, just in time for the twilight man to press his nose into her flowers, she wonders if he likes it, too.
The way he looks just ahead, glancing at her with those starry eyes full of dreams and memories, she can't help but pause to catch her breath. Is it possible to have a broken heart before you even know you care? Hers could shatter there just from that little look. It's enough to push her into motion once more, deftly gliding over the grounds until they are once more close enough to touch, separated only by caverns and chasms they erect. "Cake," she laughs, the alto of her voice vibrating with excitement and nerves. "Are places always this pretty for festivities?" Emboldened by his presence, by his promise for sorrow to be washed away, she lets her shoulders relax, tense muscles now tight only for movement. A shadow lifts, and for a moment in time Moira feels weightless.
@Asterion ;u; <3 sorry this took so long !
wishing someone could hear her, so loud
He is distant at first, lost in his own world as they pass through the gates to get their crowns, but she does not mind. She looks to the wildflowers on his head and smiles, wishing she could take one to press into the pages of a book with so many flowers that Moira could not possibly name them all. There are separate books - one for memories like tonight, another for healing and the uses of the plants, and another just to capture the beauty of the world. In her sketchbook that Estelle holds, she often would put in small scraps of those days, those precious moments. A lock of hair, a fallen petal, a thread from the tapestries on the wall.
If she could, she would press her crown into the pages for eternity to remember it as fondly as she does. Glancing to Asterion, just in time for the twilight man to press his nose into her flowers, she wonders if he likes it, too.
The way he looks just ahead, glancing at her with those starry eyes full of dreams and memories, she can't help but pause to catch her breath. Is it possible to have a broken heart before you even know you care? Hers could shatter there just from that little look. It's enough to push her into motion once more, deftly gliding over the grounds until they are once more close enough to touch, separated only by caverns and chasms they erect. "Cake," she laughs, the alto of her voice vibrating with excitement and nerves. "Are places always this pretty for festivities?" Emboldened by his presence, by his promise for sorrow to be washed away, she lets her shoulders relax, tense muscles now tight only for movement. A shadow lifts, and for a moment in time Moira feels weightless.
@Asterion ;u; <3 sorry this took so long !
